This song for me is about letting go of a delicious addiction. I barely drink, I have never smoked nor have I ever done drugs or popped pills. My choice of drug; Parker and all his yumminess. His eyes, smile, smell, strong arms, and his kisses.

His kisses enveloped me in to a delusion of something that was never going to be but something I wanted more then I have ever wanted anything else in my life. To have feelings awoken in me that I did not even know existed. To feel lust in the true sense of the word and being consumed by it.

At some point I had to face reality and get sober. I have lapsed on occasion but when I return to reality, I realize he was nothing more then a exquisite fantasy in living color.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

Stockholm syndrome is a strategy for survival, a psychological response seen in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger or risk in which they have been placed.

My marriage was a holy institution, something I was committed to for life. I walked down the aisle towards my soon to be husband with satisfaction in this knowledge. He was my one and only and I was thankful it would be that way. To know only him; his hands, his lips, his touch, to know there would never be the memory of another in our bed. After all, these were suppose to be the building blocks to longevity and happiness.

There were so many things that we shared that were good, our life was good. I loved him and I loved our life. I willingly accepted all the traditional flaws in a partner just like I know he accepted all of mine, but trying to cope with my own sexuality in an almost sex-free marriage nearly broke me completely.

Part of who I am, part of my own identity is the ability to show my passion and love through touching and holding, caressing and yes even sex. I could see how my lust, my desires hurt my husband yet I felt powerless to change. I desired him in a way I am unsure I can even put into words, yet he did not want me. I did not know how to reconcile with in myself how I could love someone that was so unwilling to show me psychically that they loved me back.

Feeling cranky from frustration and even downright hostile I would bring up the lack of sex and intimacy too often making him feel even more inadequate. Instead of it helping it hindered us even further. Every session felt staged for success to make me happy but never staged as returned desire or lust.

I spent years denying my own desires trying to expunge it from my spirit so I could be happy in my marriage. I felt trapped and I stayed longer then I should have. I was barely getting by, I was merely surviving. I was trapped by love, trapped by nostalgia, trapped by feelings of duty and honor.

The only danger I ever was in, was losing a piece of who I am. Rationalizing out that loving someone means accepting all of who they are and he was just not a 'touchy feely' kind of person. After twelve years of being cast into the shadows I have decided I need to accept who he is and what his needs are, and they do not match mine.

Accepting my lust for another human being is an immutable part of who I am that I can not snuff out. I have accepted that sex can be a wonderful way to express that part of who I am. Now I need to find a partner that feels the same way!

An addiction to you I long to feedTo see you, to have you but I will not pleadBrilliant chemistry is not enoughWhy is spending time with me so tough?Your own needs always did supersedeMy expectation you did not exceedComing together in OctoberIt is now time for me to get sober

I lean into him and his warm hands slide under my shirt. This is my favorite part of the argument; imagining his responses where I win in unspoken terms of surrender allowing us to skip to the making-up part.

His hands encircle the heavy orbs allowing his fingertips to graze over my nipples. They are already peaked from his touch and the chill in the room. A small shiver travels down my spine and I inch closer to him so my body is aligned with his.

Adeline coursing through my body, anxious for the rest but afraid it would be over to quickly. It was a dance we had done many times but tonight was different. Feeling amped up knowing this would be our last time I wanted to go slow and remember every moment and every movement.

Barely aware of anything except his mouth and hands I feel his fingers undo the front of my jeans. Lifting my butt off the mattress just a little he pulls them down and throws them towards the bottom of the bed. His hands run up the back of my calf and I sharply inhale twisting my lip between my teeth. His hands trail heat from the tips of my toes to my stomach. Every touch allowing that stirring in my core to begin.

His palm makes small circles on my inner thigh causing me to inhale deeply wanting more then anything for his fingers to find their way to my sweet spot. The torture seems endless when his fingers begin to stroke softly at first then faster and faster. My body arches towards the pleasure and I feel myself give over to him completely.

Shivering now from pleasure rather than the cold Parker rests his body upon mine, entering me swiftly. My swollen pink walls envelope him in warmth. He moves in rhythm to my breathing until I feel him shutter with pleasure.

Collapsing on me completely spent we just laid that way unable to break ourselves away from each other knowing our world would change the minute we stepped foot outside the door.

Knowing we would lapse back into knowing each other as acquaintances. Seceretly exchanging hidden glances and quieted wanton sighs. To only be able to feel the heat of his touch through his shirt during a lingering hug hello or good bye, no I did not want the morning to come.

While doing a short stint in Alabama to help promote the hubbies career I met Sarah. She was a tall, blond, wild and intriguing woman. We became fast friends. One night she had a date and wanted to go pick up a 'little' something at The Gift Spot and I opted to go shopping with her. This is where I was first exposed to the FunFactory brand.

Anal play had never crossed my mind and I must admit it took me several years before I even attempted such play, but I have found with the right partner it can be quite fun. You need to trust your partner and feel quite comfortable with them for anal play to be fun (at least for me). I have never tried anal beads of any kind but I remember when she bought Felix I was envious to give him a try.

Paul & Paulina: A FunFactory Toy

So far I have not bought into the whole "The Rabbit" is the best sex toy and every girl must have one. I think if I am going to spend that kind of money I want one that isn't all pink and girly. I want one that say I am fun and I am ready to have some fun. This one just struck me just the right way when I was viewing the FunFactory Toy site. I hope it lives up to all the hype.

Chester Cheeky: A FunFactory Toy

I was in Boulder, Colorado (2002) when I bought my first rechargeable vibrator, it is the one I still use as of today. It is the most basic of designs; pearl white, made of hard plastic, waterproof and of course rechargeable.

The fact it was waterproof and rechargeable is what attracted me to it in the first place. It was not appealing and the fact it is hard, (had no give to it at all) I almost did not want to purchase it. Knowing it would not eat up batteries the way many other toys do, it why it was chosen over several others I had looked at that day.

I call it "Ole Reliable". It has never failed to deliver pleasure making it my favorite toy in my treasure trove, but I am willing to expand and look for a new "Ole Reliable". Maybe I will find that in Chester Cheeky.

SmartBalls: A FunFactory Toy

I have a set of Ben-Wa-Balls. I have used them on occasion and probably should use them more often since I have given birth to two children, both whom were big babies. I plan to do a review of Ben-Wa-Balls verses Smart Balls. I want to see if there is a difference in the tightening as well as the technique and design so it is high up on my wish list.

I could probably add ten more toys to my list but perhaps I will start with these four. If anyone has any thoughts on toys I should add to my list of "must have" or even manufactures I should try please add via comment section. Also if anyone has one of these toys and would like to add their own review feel free to do so via comment section.

Their web site is: http://www.funfactory.de/usa/

Side Note: I am not tied to any manufactures, so my opinions are solely how I feel about the toy I am reviewing. FunFactory is a brand I stumbled across and it grabbed my attention due to the fun and whimsical designs of their toys.

Dusk was slowly giving way to night causing all the colors of the sunset to blur and fade away. The moon rested low in the sky just over the tops of the Aspen trees. My steps were slow as I walked up the pebbled path leading to the cabin and the brittleness of the leaves announced my presence to the otherwise quiet night.

As my hand touched the door knob I felt myself exhale the breath I had been holding since I closed the car door. It billowed out in front of me as though I had blown out a match. The knob twisted easily beneath my fingers as I pushed forward on the door and stepped into the entryway.

Closing the door, I set my bag down. I knew I should wait there but I could hear the fire crackling and I was quite chilled. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since noon. Making my way across the hard wood floor my heels clacked. A curse slipped out under my breath, pausing mid step I bent down to undo the ankle straps.

Both feet free from interrupting the silence, I snatched up the offending shoes. With a slightly dramatic upswing my hair began to topple free from the pins. I was about to let out another curse, when I stopped short.

Charlie stood in the doorway holding two glasses of red wine and a huge smirk upon his face. Unsure of how much of this clumsy awkward scene he had witnessed, I tightened my grip on the shoes, pulling them tighter to my body. He must have sensed my embarrassment, “How was your trip?”

“It was long but what a beautiful drive. I’m a bit cold. The temperature has really dropped.” I nervously blurted out stumbling over my own words. He pushed himself from the doorjamb he had been leaning against and sauntered dreamily towards me.

Setting the two glasses of wine down his hand reached for mine. “Good.” He said as he began to lead me through the Great Room to a hallway. “What?” I heard myself say as my feet refused to take another step.

Charlie turned towards me and saw the puzzled look I must have been wearing. Just as my lips were beginning to form another question, Charlie gently placed a finger to my lips. The pressure of his fingertip was firm yet gentle. It sent a shiver down my spine. At that moment I decided I would trust him. He let his finger trail down my lower lip and then turned to take the last few steps down the hallway.

Releasing my hand as we stepped through the doorway. The floor had more than two dozen lit candles and the most beautiful copper tub sitting in the center of the room. He stepped in front of me and began to unbutton my coat. When I went to speak, again he raised his finger and placed it on my lips. Then his hands slid down my shoulders and arms until I heard my coat drop to the floor.

His fingers nimbly undid the buttons on my blouse; it dropped to the floor. He reached his arms around me bringing me forward almost into a hug as the bra hooks released. My eyes fluttered closed as I lost my footing and leaned into him. His scent was that of the outdoors and I breathed it in deeply.

I felt his palms blaze a trail down the small of my back and then up again. Lacing his fingers threw the straps of my bra he slid them down my arms slowly so the back of his fingers softly caressed my forearms. Reaching my hands his fingers tangled with mine for only a moment before the bra joined the pool of clothing gathering at my feet.

He then knelt in front of me. I could feel him glance up from the bent position. A small smile crossed my lips. Taking this as consent, he undid the buttons on my pants causing them to easily puddle at my ankles. All that remained was the tiniest scrap of black lace. I heard him take a sharp breath in as he reached for my panties.

Charlie then stood and led me to the big copper tub. The rose petals pushed aside as I slid down into the water until it lapped at my breasts. “Close your eyes and just relax.” His voice was as soothing as the hot water was on my taunt, tight muscles.

Sitting behind me on a stool he tenderly washed my hair, arms, legs, breasts and stomach. I barley heard him as he stood and crossed the room to grab a towel. As I surfaced from the water the rose petals clung to my wet skin. Charlie's touch was delicate and sensual as he gently plucked them from my skin. Liquid heat stirred at my core.

When he finished removing the rose petals he wrapped the towel around me and carefully lifted me from the tub. He carried me back to the Great Room, where in front of the stone hearth was a bear rug.

I sprawled out on the rug and over to the side I saw a silver platter that had different kinds of cheeses, strawberries and grapes. My stomach let out a small growl as I reached for a few grapes and a chunk of cheese. “Charlie, are you going to join me?”

“Of course” He answered and reached over to grab the two glasses of wine.

We sat there allowing the silence to envelope us. I reached for a strawberry and held it to his lips. He took a small bite and then took it from my fingers. Turning the strawberry around, I bit into the remaining strawberry. Licking my lips I reached out to nibble his fingertips. That proved to be the end of his restraint.

"Real love is always fated. It has been arranged before time. It is the most meticulously prepared of coincidences. And fate, of course, is simply a secular term for the will of God, and coincidence for His grace."

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

Despite what I have always been told, I have come to realize there is not always a right or wrong choice, sometimes it can be both.

When in the thick of things you may think you are doing everything right and making all the right choices but really you don't know if it was the right choice until the reward or consequences to said choice(s) are reveled.

Having always given good sound advice to others regarding life in general, relationships and love, I find myself drowning in what can only be categorized as either bad or wrong choices.

Looking back always allows one to see things more clearly, yet I find myself wondering how did I get to where I am? Where did it all go wrong? Is there a way to pin point the pivotal moment in time when making a simple correction could have changed things monumentally?

Not that it matters since I can't go back in time to change it, but how do I set my path right? I feel lost, like I am floundering and helpless to change anything.

Concubine: A woman who cohabits with an important man, with a difference in social status.Mistress: A man's long-term female sexual partner and companion who is not married to him. Paramour: An woman's illicit lover! In 18th- and 19th-century Venice the terms "cicisbeo" and "cavalier servente" were used to describe a man who was the professed gallant and lover of a married woman.

These terms have been around for centuries, and most often they carry very negative connotations. My question is, "Why does it have to be negative?" There is something very appealing and erotic about the idea of a lover that will only ever see me at my best.

My Paramour would see me as a Goddess. He would be my sex slave meant to do my bidding. I would not have to impress him, he would have to impress me. Our time together would be spent worshiping each others bodies, basking in the pleasure of each others touch. I would be flawless, perfect for those moments we are together. Responsibilities paused, worries set aside, and I am finally seen the way I wish to be seen.

He would never see me without make-up on or in my 'around the house' cloths. He would never see me putting anti-ageing cream on my face. I would never have to pick up after him, cook for him, or feel like I have to ask ten times for something to be done.

I would never have to pretend I like sports or his interests. I am not pouring out my thoughts and ideas to a person completely uninterested and I in turn don't have to pretend that his stories are deeply profound and riveting.

No time is wasted putting my best foot forward. I would never see disapointment cross his face because I was lacking. I would never have to meet his mother or family or friends. I would never be told I was not smart enough or pretty enough, or just flat out not good enough!

He would never see me at my weakest moment. He wouldn't have the power or ability to make me sad, see me cry or be vulnerable. I would be perfect for the brief time we are together and then we part, going our separate ways until those carnal needs sneak up again.

I love words, but what I really love is a powerful well chosen vocabulary. My word choice is executed with thought. How will that word or description shape the piece? When my words wash over you they should create a feeling, an intense reaction, if that happens then I did my job.

These are only but a few of my favorites, for if I were to put them all it would be easier to say, "Pick up a dictionary they are all in there."

Ambiguity: unclear, multiple meanings depending on context. Life is full of ambiguity, intentions of people are ambiguous.

Catapulted: thrust forward with force. I like this word because it almost implies you had no choice, rather you are propelled forward against your will.

Eviscerate: To take away a vital or essential part of, the removal of something.

Naughty: This may be one of my most favorite words and yet it is such a simple word. The meaning it can carry, the things it can imply is what makes it my favorite!

Negate: To contradict or prove false.

Poignant: Arousing effect, keenly distressing to the mind or feelings.

Precarious: Fraught with danger, not secure.

Resonate: bouncing around in my head, reverberating off my skull, playing over and over in my head the same sad song. Broken records making me hear all my worst fears.

Salacious: Characterized by lust. That says it all!

Usurped: bound to, chained to

Voracity: Extreme gluttony. Applied in the context of desire or lust this word creates a visual that you just can't get enough. You want more and more until there is nothing left. Just the right word to end on!

To all my faithful readers and followers, thank you for your comments and support. It means the world to me.

The line between reality and fantasy finally blurred and became something tangible. Parker's fingers were laced with mine as we reached that pivotal moment of sweet release. Hours spent together kissing and touching each other. Sometimes it was soft caresses and at other times it was with an urgency that could not be molded into words.

Every morsel of him was as delicious as I had imagined and I basked in the after math of that knowledge. His lips now knew me they knew my body. His fingers took a journey mapping out all my pleasure points. Discovering what made me purr and I in turn discovered what made his toes curl so he would call out my name.

I hated that in just a little while I would have to leave the comfort of his strong arms. Life had to resume outside of the four walls we had secluded ourselves to. Until we find ourselves together again know you are never far from my thoughts or fantasies.

Parker’s dominance was unexpected as I flew the short distance to the bed. I was not coy as I pursued him, and this sudden role reversal was sexy as hell.

His pants already shucked and lay in a puddle on the floor. I wore a black bra with black and white gingham shoulder straps. The boy shorts matched and had little bows to look like a garter belt. The mattress had barley recoiled from the bounce of my weight when his frame pinned mine making the discarded belt carve into my flesh.

Feeling the weight of his frame upon mine after all the waiting and longing I had endured, was like a junkie getting a fix after a long bout of sobriety. I took a deep breath and let it wash over me. Closing my eyes I wanted to absorb every scent, every touch, and every sensation he had to offer.

With his arms wrapped around me he pressed both his lips hard to mine. There was an aggression to his kiss. It was commanding and wanton. Letting out a moan I realized there was going to be a little pain mixed in with this pleasure and I did not mind.

Like a beacon my body had been calling out to him. He dropped small kisses on my collar bone and shoulders. Weaving one hand into my hair he gave it a small tug causing the side of my neck to become exposed so he could bite it. A moan escaped my pressed lips encouraging him forward.

Slithering his hand up the length of my upper arm I jerked. His hands were soft and his fingers tickled the delicate skin that was rarely touched. Liking this reaction he torched me by running his fingers up and down the length of my upper arm again until he saw me bite my lip to keep from giggling. Getting the reaction he wanted he smirked and returned his focus.

Before I knew what was happening he bound my wrists by encircling his thumb and forefinger around them. Then he drug his free hand up and down the length of my torso pausing at the bra. My nipples stood erect beneath the padded fabric begging to be played with. Rounding his eyes to mine I could see raw hunger residing there, it reflected my own.

He would have to release my hands to remove the bra causing a mischievous smile dawn his lips. I heard the fabric tear from the sewn hem and he dipped his head taking my nipple into his mouth. They peaked to a hardness I am sure they had never known, never before experienced. His skilled tongue languished each golden orb with equal attention and created a yearning deep inside of me.

I needed to feel more of him; I needed to feel all of him. It was torture to have my hands pinned. To not touch him when it was all I had wanted to do for so long. My body was reacting to every move he offered producing the wet haven he would need to bring me to ecstasy. It amazed me with just the touch of his mouth to my skin I could feel myself become slick with need.

I felt his long fingers enter me and curve upward. His need to posses me, to be in me was becoming as frantic as my own need was. I ached my back to this new found pleasure and my body broke out in small beads of perspiration. Each stroke was fluid and smooth creating a building sensation from my core.

I felt his weight shift as he moved his body to align with mine. He thrust into me forcefully and fully. It was heaven. I held onto him so tightly as his movements created friction against my clitoris and his deep movements made me warm all over. A scream tore from my throat as my body spasmed with liquid heat. It was like electricity transferred from him to me.

He collapsed beside me completely spent. I experienced a true sense of euphoria as I laid there in his arms listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

After Prometheus' theft of the secret of fire, Zeus ordered Hephaestus to create the woman, Pandora as part of the punishment for mankind. Pandora was given many seductive gifts from the Gods. For fear of additional reprisals, Prometheus warned his brother not to accept any gifts from Zeus, but he married Pandora.

Pandora had been given a large jar and instruction by Zeus to keep it closed, but she had also been given the gift of curiosity, and ultimately opened it. When she opened it, all of the evils, ills, diseases, and burdensome labor that mankind had not known previously, escaped from the jar. Quickly she placed the lid back onto the jar but it is said, at the bottom of the jar lay hope.

In everyday discourse we are challenged by some of our most basic assumptions regarding grief and happiness. I can recall the exquisitely sharp sensation of loss when finding out that my happiness was but a temporary condition bringing forth a profound question; is there a finite amount of pain, pleasure, hope, sorrow, grief, and happiness allowed in the world at any one given time in order to keep balance?

While pleasuring oneself can release your insides from a taunt unrelenting prison and rock your senses with immeasurable pleasure it cannot compare to a lover holding on to you or looking into their eyes as you both ride the wave of a powerful climax. There is something magical in the thought of bringing the other person close to ecstasy while exploring new nerve endings and trigger zones. Discovering new ways to caress their body for more and more pleasure hoping the moment will last forever. Seeing the intensity reflected back in their eyes when that over whelming all consuming pleasure is reached as a shared goal.

The summer heat penetrated the house as I lay across the cool crisp sheets allowing the air conditioner to greedily evaporate every last drop of water from my skin. The room still pregnant with the scent of shampoo and body lotion my eyes fluttered closed. I can easily recall the memory of the first time we caved and indulged in each other.

My decent into unbridled lust was not as swift as one would think. For months the sexual tension was palpable, but we had become experts in pretending it did not matter or it did not exist. The subject never broached but volumes spoken in hidden smiles and smoldering looks. We were good at making polite conversation with each other but never acting on what was impermissible.

The hotel room smelled of fresh cut honeysuckle and lilac. Parker had his back flat against the wall with the sole of one shoe pressing hard against the sheetrock. His eyes penetrating mine I could see questions forming on his lips. Was he was willing to break all of his own rules to taste the fruit of the forbidden tree?

I could tell I was going to have to take control of the situation before he opened the hotel door and walked away without ever giving me what I desperately needed. I needed to know him. To feel him deep within me. To feel the weight of his frame upon mine. To lie completely spent basking in the waves of pleasure.

I stood up from the small writing desk and sauntered towards him. He did not move or even bat an eyelash. Gently I brushed my lips against his jaw line and made my way to his neck. I planted small kisses on his collar bone and ran my tongue from the crook of his neck to his ear. I took his ear lobe gently into my mouth nibbling it softly and massaged it with my tongue. Giving release to his ear lobe I moved to the other side and again nibbled on his ear and then softly whispered, “I want you to fuck me, but not before I bring you to your knees and beg for me to let you!”

Small deep encouraging moans escaped his throat as I undid his belt and yanked it from its loops. I tossed it onto the bed with purpose, for that would later be used. With one swift jerk the button gave way on his pants and I reached for the zipper. A pleasant surprise awaited me. He was rock hard and commando. This brought a smile to my lips but I did not have time to point out how sexy I thought it was.

I took the length of him into my mouth and ran my tongue from tip to base. Sliding my hand up, making a circle, then sliding it back down the length of his beautiful shaft. With drawing my mouth almost completely, pausing at the rim then thrusting back down to the base. Up and down I moved my mouth with my eyes wide open looking up at him, taking in every ounce of his pleasure and facial expressions.

Parker had weaved and tangled his fingers into my hair helping guide my pace. I continued until I could sense he was close with orgasm. I could feel his body shutter with the intensity as I flicked my tongue one last time across the tip. His warm seed spilled into my mouth and I swallowed a part of him. I could see his eyes flutter closed for a few moments as I gazed up at him on my knees.

Parker reached down and grabbed my arms hauling me against his chest we fell against the wall. “I do want to fuck you.” With that he flung me onto the bed.

In a utopian world one can "have their cake and eat it too," however in the real world, if one were to indulge in such glutinous pleasures you end up with a sugar high and an upset stomach.

We as humans would like to think we evolve, change and grow through our experiences. The real under lying question is, “Are we interested in evolving? The idea of “evolving” or becoming a better person may be a false sense of self that we can buy into. Perhaps we do not evolve into better people, rather characteristics we deem barbaric become dormant capable of reemerging to rear their ugly head whenever we feel threatened.

We can achieve a magnitude of changes within ourselves by choice alone and retain the most basic of intrinsic values; however others still influence and impact decisions made in life. They are often the catalyst. How much of evolving is by choice and how much is subject to the vicissitudes of life?

In the journey towards self enlightenment I have discovered that sometimes when you win you lose. You may gain a better job with better pay but you lose out on personal dreams and ambitions. Often when you gain it is at the expense of something or someone else. You sacrifice your dreams, time to yourself and time with your family for the idea of the greater good. Becoming an adult, slowly evolving, is the pivotal moment we become acutely aware that people live each day shackled by limits and obligations.

“Having your cake and eating it too,” has the connotation of greed. To me it's the greed of a little kid who hasn't figured out the laws of 3D yet. The excitement and novelty will eventually wear off and very real unanticipated consequences are all that remain.

To evolve, to be enlightened one must embrace the idea of letting go of all expectations, of past hurt and pain. Since I still wish bodily harm to those whom have wronged me in the most hurtful of ways I have decided I have not yet evolved that I may be the complete opposite. I may be experiencing devolution, so I can retain my barbaric ways and kick ass if I need to!

Putting one foot in front of the other I walked up to him with more confidence then I actually felt. “May I see you for a moment?” His eyes bore into mine with shock and intrigue. It had been months since I had seen him, spoken his name, and touched his lips to mine. Flashes of body parts contorted in pain and pleasure burned at the back of my eye lids as I tried to keep my smile firmly in place. His nod was polite and controlled. From the corner of my eye I could see Parker dismiss the person he was with turning his gaze and focus back to me.

I felt his hand snake up and grab my elbow firmly giving it a gentle but commanding squeeze. My heels made a clacking sound and our steps fell into sync as he guided me across the tiled floor. Not a word was spoken until the door to his office closed with a reverberating click. He pushed me forward and then wheeled me around so my butt slammed into the now closed door. My throat suddenly felt dry and scratchy. He released my elbow. I instinctually reached my hand up to massage away the heat from his touch.

“I did not mean to grip so hard. Did I hurt you?” His words came out in a bark, while his eyes held genuine concern. “No, I'm fine. I’m not actually sure why I am here--- ” My words trailed off. I tried to side step him so I could refocus my thoughts but his arms went straight up trapping me against the door. “You are here for a reason, are you going to tell me why?” His tone held a hint of teasing.

I knew the words he wanted me to say, I even felt them bubble their way to the surface. My lips refused to take shape, to form the words my body and mind were screaming. He wanted me to say I had made a mistake, that I should have never broken things off, he wanted me to beg.

Eternity passed in those brief moments while I waited for him to give me what I could not form into words. I knew my cheeks were betraying me without even needing a glance in a mirror. “You always did blush so nicely.” He whispered in that husky rakish tone I adored, as he lowered his lips to mine.

The greed I felt in his kiss paled compared to the greed in mine. My blouse was unbuttoned in one swift motion. His large hand cupped my breast bringing his thumb and pointer finger together in a gentle pinch at the tip of the nipple. My eyes slammed shut, fighting every fiber in my being that told me to scream; instead I melted into the pleasure. I allowed it to take over reason.

Parker bent his head down taking my nipple into his mouth, teasing and taunting it into a peak. My fingers laced their way through his dark tresses. The scent of his shampoo rose settling in my nose. His cologne had faded and now mixed with my scent.

Suddenly my hands were all over not settling in one place to long. I felt his shirt break free from his waistline and my fingers finally roamed over his heated flesh. It was not enough that I had memorized every line, every angle, every freckle, and every scar on our last encounter; I wanted to feel every inch of his body again.

His cock pressed hard against his khaki pants. My fingers found his zipper freeing him from the fabric prison and into my waiting hand. My fingers enclosed the length of him and I gently moved my hand up and down. A moan erupted from his throat enhancing my own desire.

I could feel the stirring at my core, my center; the gentle throbbing of blood that had rushed to the sensitive place between my legs. He inched my pencil skirt up higher exposing my thigh highs. His fingers pushed the lace of my panties out of the way so he could tease out the pleasure hiding within. Waves of desire, longing, need swept through me with voracity. My knees finally gave way. Parker reached his strong arms out under my butt lifting me up. I adjusted my legs around his waist then he entered me.

My back was flat up against the door and for a brief moment I was nervous about being caught. A shuttered went down my spine making me shake a little. Parker’s eyes opened, “Are you ok?” All the bark was gone. My eyes flew open and I realized I was staring directly into his greenish grey eyes that had captivated me from the beginning. “Yes.” It came out breathless, but it was all I could get my mind to form and the only word he needed to hear.

I held onto his neck with my legs locked around his waist. Every movement brought us both closer to the pleasure we needed until we both shuttered with orgasm. In that moment I could not remember why I had ever walked away from him.

The sun warms my shoulders as I sip my well prepared four dollar and thirty-two cent coffee. Gazing around I see hands reaching for other hands, fingers softly stroking a cheek and smiles on the faces of couples who are soaking in the sun on this warm Sunday morning. It brings me back to a conversation I had with a friend about marriage and relationships. The question proposed seemed so simple, yet it has weaved in and out of my sub-consciousness for months. “Can any one person truly fill all the needs of another?” Weighing heavy on my heart and mind I acknowledged the need to examine my own relationship. What critical needs must be met in order for a relationship to flourish?

I find myself floundering to put those needs into words. Often we do not know what they are until they have been met or our partner falls short, disappointing us. I do not know that any one person can ever completely meet every "need" that we have. Perhaps it is even unfair that we put this demand on a person we say we love. If we count on one person to single handily meet every; interest, thought, passion, hope, dream, adventure, and desire we have we are guaranteeing they fail in turn guaranteeing the relationship fails.

I don't know that I really want my partner to ever "get" me completely. There would not be anything new for him to discover. To say, “Wow I never knew that!” If you have each other all "figured out" what do you do for the next 40-50-60 years? I do not share a passion for NASCAR, football, basketball, Extreme-Sports, golf and numerous others. Just as surely I know my partner does not enjoy poetry, the museum, art, coffee or even sitting in the park for hours just reading and lying next to each other. To me this is why we have friends. They fill the “holes” which our relationship has. Those holes do not have to be a negative factor, but rather the opportunity to meet and appreciate all the wondrous color other people bring into our lives.

Expecting one person to just get us completely we set ourselves up for heart ache and disappointment. We don't have instructions or come with a manual so we have to voice our concerns. Taking a good hard look at our relationships on occasion is not only warranted but necessary maintenance to keep the wheels greased and moving forward. Sometimes a friend, that outside source gives a much needed break from the everyday grind, an escape to sanity. A person can never have too many friends that understand a small part of us that our partner does not. I think it is logical and expected to look to others, to outsiders, to friends and family to fill the "holes" in our relationships. Until this epiphany I never realized they are the compasses that often guide us back to the ones we love.

1. Shoes. I need more shoes like I need a hole in the head, but that doesn't stop me.2. I am easily plied with Starbucks, warm caramel and chocolate. (Any combination works.)3. Toys. In the event of my demise, I have a friend who is to come over right away. She knows where to go and what to take away in brown paper bags. And never mention to anyone.4. Eating raw cookie dough. And no I don't want any comments on how bad it is for you!5. Taking my frustration out on the steering wheel while playing the music loudly and yelling "Learn how to drive you ass clown!"6. Last, but not the least... purposely empting the stapler on my bosses desk. Every time she reaches for it I hear, "I just don't understand how there are never any staples in here. I just filled it the other day." It is petty but when you are under paid and undervalued it is the small triumphs that make the week easier.

ps. I had to add a few more!!!

7. I love jumping up and down on bubble wrap. The sound it makes somehow makes you feel good.8. When I have had a rotten week I love going and getting a manicure and pedicure.9. Watching Third Watch reruns every morning. (Great show!)10. Reality TV. It is utterly ridiculous to watch people "living" when most of it is all staged but still I enjoy it so don't judge.

****Feel free to make your own confession, I promise I won't tell.*****

I have tried to write my lust away, to no avail. Attempting to occupy my mind with anything and everything but thoughts of you, you still penetrate my fortress and creep into my dreams. Every night they take me on a glutinous journey that I can not say, I regret.

Poised above me, your weight shifts and your knee comes to rest between my legs pushing them open. You easy my arms above my head and then you hold my wrists tight so I can not move. You try to lower your lips to meet mine and I turn my head refusing you access. Suddenly I feel the warmth of your breath against my ear telling me I will obey you. Completely hypnotized, my breath quickens. Twisting my head so I can look at you, the agony of need is written into your features. As if seeing you for the first time my eyes betray me, giving consent.

Upon my silent agreement you lower your mouth to my nipple. They harden in response to your skilled tongue. Briefly gazing up, you see me twisting the corner of my lip into my mouth and biting down. A moan escapes from my clenched lips. Pleased you again shift your weight adjusting your grip on my wrists. I feel your hand run up and down the length of my torso circling my belly button. Your long fingers probe at my outside lips teasing and taunting. Small goose bumps prickle to life in anticipation. You expect me to beg with words but I won't!

My back arches in response as you thrust your fingers deep inside. Wiggling my bottom I try to get closer and closer to the source of this pleasure. Building a slow pensive need never before spoken. My head thrashes from side to side. You push your fingers in as far as they will go making small circles in my warm pink halls. Just shy of bring your fingers all the way out you then thrust them forward again and again.

You continue to do this until I feel as though I may actually break in half trying to get free from my restraints. My hands itch to touch you. I want to wrap my fingers around the hard solid mass I feel against my hip. To grab a bit of your hair and tug it hard enough to expose your neck so I can breath in your heady scent and sink my teeth into your flesh. A moan escapes from my clenched lips causing a hot surge to creep across my damp skin. My body tightens and finally convulses as liquid heat spreads from my core to my fingertips.

You loosen your hold on my wrists as we both collapse back on to the bed. Breathing deeply I raise up onto my forearm. My hands finally free, I spread them out against your chest as I hop on leg across you and straddle you. Easing down the length of your body it is now my warm mouth enveloping you. Teasing and taunting with slow flicks of my tongue around the tip and then my mouth enclosing the entire length moving up and down. I feel it grow even harder as my hand and mouth move in perfect synchronization.

As your body tenses I can feel you near the edge. Releasing my grip with one fluid movement I slide myself down to rest fully atop you. Rocking my hips back and forth you grab them to help guide. My pink walls tighten and release around your hardness. Up and down we move together until I feel every ounce of you released inside me, then one last tighten and release.

The alarm sounds in the background and I peer out from beneath my eyelashes. I reach over and find the button that will allow me to escape back to where the violent rhythm of your thrusting pounds like a cadence in my head and our hips rock in unison. That is where I long to be.

There he stands, in all his six foot three inch glory, lust swimming before me like a hazy illusion. Electricity flowing through my veins, making my skin tingle. The warmth from his proximity gives me a dull ache inside, creating a longing so poignant, it leaves me vulnerable and wanting more. His heady scent makes me feel intoxicated with uncontrollable wanton longing. I consciously remind myself to breathe, while an inner voice was nudging me to go, run the other way, no good would come from this.

Starting with a yearning so vague he consumes my thoughts, seeping into my unconsciousness. He is there in my dreams urging me forward into depths of passion never experienced. New feelings bubbling to the surface, I should be frightened. Instead I want to explore every delectable sin making sleep irresistible, so I can bask in those moments of wicked pleasure.

Frantically dreaming of bittersweet love making, I want to go to bed early and take naps on the weekends. Feverish with desire, my temperature rising, my face flushed, sensing a heat within and waking with a deep throbbing. Dreaming is no longer enough. Constantly plagued with thoughts of forbidden fruit, my addiction has acquired a mind of its own. Needing to feed my habit I will go to any lengths to have my cravings met. I have to see him, breathe him in. I need actual contact to make my “high” last longer.

Parker walks towards me with the god like quality I have bestowed upon him. Leaning in to hug me, I hesitate letting go. I want to nuzzle my nose into his neck. His scent intoxicates my memory becoming the fruits of my sexual masochism. Flashes of dropping kisses down his collar bone dance through my head. I am certain the physical manifestation of my lust is apparent on my face and I can only hope he remains unsuspecting. I slowly withdraw leaving my impression upon him. The instant he shifts his weight his shirt twists and falls back into place, no longer holding the memory of our embrace.

Going through the motions of polite conversation, I want to wildly scream, “You completely wreck me! You leave me being a victim of unbalanced lust and obsession!”

Wanting someone is not a bad thing, unless you are already with someone else. My perception of reality is slowly being warped by desire and longing. The inevitable truth, he is not mine and I cannot be his. I feel like I am living and breathing for an unattainable holy grail. Contemplating the sacrifice of all the things tangible in my life for my next “high” I admit, I need help.

I have an addiction and the first step to “getting well” is to ask for help. Where does one go when your addiction is shear lust and desire? Where can I go to admit I want nothing more than to feel his hands all over me? With AA or any other twelve step program the main requirement is to truly want to QUIT, but do I want to? With today’s technology it is easy to talk to him, to see him, to want him. I am not sure I am ready to give up my addiction; after all, no one is holding me accountable. It is my secret and I revel in it. It has been forever since something was just mine; mine to know, mine to enjoy.

Parker and I run in the same social circles making it effortless to have a serendipitous run-in. It is not like I can cut him out of my life without alerting everyone, including him that something was awry. Self medicating, about to fall off the preverbal cart, and I am without a sponsor. Making excuses for seeing him, excuses why I cannot stop. Seeing myself through his eyes; that is an addiction in itself. He makes me feel extraordinary, and that I am not prepared to give up.

Around Parker I escape into a world of fantasy, where I can be anyone. Around him I am not a mother or a wife. I could be jetting off to somewhere exotic leaving responsibility behind. Thoughts of soccer practice, what to cook for dinner and the three weeks of piled up laundry float swiftly out of my mind.

Parker reminds me I am an attractive, strong and beautiful woman. I want; I need to hold on to the passion and independence I feel when I am around him. Being in his presence is like someone grabbing those paddles you see in an emergency room and yelling, "Clear" shocking me back to life. The strange thing is I had not realized I have been dying.

It is not a death you will read about in the newspaper or hear on the eleven o’clock news. It is death by indifference and self sacrifice. I have let my life become stagnant, become vanilla. Suspended in a state of unconsciousness, going so long unseen, I have unknowingly forgotten who I am.

Being usurped by love; bound to it, does not vaccinate you to lust and desire. Lust is powerful, because it has the capacity to instantly relieve and reduce pain, allowing you to temporarily forget your problems. I was so focused on being the perfect mom, the flawless Good Housekeeping ™ wife, a reliable and indispensable employee, and a friend that has never ending time and tissues, that somewhere along the way I lost my face, my identity.

Upon parting, I crash like any other junkie, as surely as I know he goes about his day oblivious to how he makes me feel. The reality is being around him is a temporary high. I am not unhappy or unfulfilled. I love being a supporting wife to an incredible man and a mother of two fantastic little boys, but how do I do that without losing myself? I need balance. To somehow translate those feeling I have around Parker back into my “real” life. Perhaps the lust I feel for him is more about longing for change.

Every time I see Parker it is like my sobriety starts back at day one. I don’t doubt that my lustful addiction regarding him is sincere, but his real gift was showing me I can be gorgeous and independent with a strong sense of self. I do not have to sacrifice all the things that define who I am in order to juggle all the multifaceted roles of; wife, mom, friend, daughter, sister and employee. I can be extraordinary in those roles as long as somewhere in the mix “I” always exist.

Unearthing all my old passions I can shelf my “lust” addiction and replace it with healthier activities. I use to write, rock climb and kick box. While resuming those activities I added new ones as well. I joined a belly dancing class, bought tickets for a cruise, took a helicopter ride/flying lesson, and lost weight. I have found myself less agitated at work, with my boys and my husband by remembering to never lose my place again.

Although he may never know the role he played, I will forever be grateful to Parker for energizing life back into me and reminding me I count!

Spun from dreams forever searchingTraveling into the depths of all that is kept secretUnfortunate choices bind me like PrometheusTerrible but beautiful truths hold me captiveThe height of my passion cannot be learned Freely given, reluctantly denied For the splendor of you..... Radiates a feeling of ecstasy and belongingThere is no place like this placeWords are empty in comparison

All the horrid drunken beauty materializedWords no longer shield what lies withinStumbling obscenely the spell is broken Doubt and emptiness engulfingSimply exhausted going over the deep endTo broken to know, to broken to understandYour fingers were a cage around my heartI cried a thousand tears Drowned a thousand sorrowsIt was you who made me this wayTo feel like I was nothingA body without a soulThe blade of betrayal Slowly sinking into fleshDeath is a crimson gift

Watching my world spin by like a dizzy-colored topOne whisper of your voice, I fade awayDrowning softly in gentle vicesLost in your kisses like white hot heat My pulse pounding every second Reeling with the anticipation, consumed with desireThe chance had come and we foolishly passed it by

Slow to observe the depths of her beautyBehind the almost golden eyes a composed aching gleamedLiving a life oblivious to love she was a blank canvas to paintWith trust an unmistakable hunger and longing emergedA silky laugh coming out as a whispering pleaFrightened by her naivety I promised to guideFreeing passion and capturing velvet desirePenetrated by soft slick tongues warm gentle pleasure reflectedNeeding rhythm to satisfy, together we were visibly triumphant

Once living a desiccated life, you were a deliberate intrusionOblivious to rational my heart hammeredInstantaneously an infatuation was nascentTrying to decipher your languid languageI was incoherently catapulted forward, forever changedReveling in optimism my senses are spinningFrivolous hope manifests as anticipation cascades all around mePromises of pleasure I allow myself to be immersed in your illusionSwollen parts orchestrated in exquisite harmonyNervous hesitation squelched under your magnificent bodyOur silhouettes shimmered in the moonlight as ecstasy was reached

I have loved to the point of madness; That which is called madness, That which to me, Is the only sensible way to love." - Françoise Sagan

Night had already fallen as I unsteadily stepped from the white S10 truck. The stars were barely visible on this January evening as the snow came fluttering down from the sky and the cold wind gave my cheeks a rosy hue. Completely lost in thought the frosty air didn’t bother me as I acknowledged to myself, in less than an hour I would be someone’s wife. I barely even noticed as I slid across the ice in my haste to maneuver my way up the steps into the church.

Emotions bubbling to the surface threatening to spill over, would I live up to all his expectations, but more importantly would he live up to mine? All I wanted was to marry someone that was my friend and my equal. I wanted to love him and desire him in a way that made my heart skip. I was excited and scared as trepidation slid over me finally making me shiver. From a distance my mother’s soft voice began to penetrate the cloudy thoughts of my subconscious. “Are you cold? I can have them turn up the heat.” her voice resonating in the empty church.

“No, I am ok.” I said walking swiftly to the small bathroom where I would prepare myself to walk down the aisle. There would be no wedding dress or a flurry of crazed bride’s maids in dresses they secretly hated; instead it was a quiet ceremony where I wore black velvet pants and a white silk shirt. It was my choice to do as my beloved asked. He wanted a small no muss no fuss wedding. I complied because I couldn’t wait to marry this man.

What makes us know or believe that for the rest of our days we will want to live, breath, dream, sleep with, love, only this one person? Walking down the aisle on my dad’s arm, my breath caught in my throat. I exhaled quickly and refocused my eyes up to my waiting groom. He seemed so self assured smiling at me I knew I loved him. Marring this man would be the easiest decision I would ever make, it would be all the years to come that would be the true test.

Having just achieved my eleventh year anniversary, I have had my share of ups and downs. This got me thinking; love is still a mystery. How does our brain leave us feeling so certain that we have made a decision to last our entire lifetime?

Being in love is one of the greatest feelings a person can experience. It is exhilarating and leaves you with a natural kind of high. Love gives you a sense of euphoria. When it is good you never want that feeling to disappear, and when it’s bad you come crashing down like any other addict when the source of their high disappears. Love has so many twists and turns that you can’t brace yourself for; anyone who permits themselves too “fall” must be insane. So the real question is; why do we do it?

I have thought about the definition of insanity relative to the definition of love. Webster’s would define insanity as the following: A relatively permanent disorder of the mind. I think love is insanity by definition. The two are synonymous. You can’t have one without the other. Love is a permanent disorder that we step into, choosing to relinquish sanity. We know we will get battered and bruised, yet we still consent to the institution. Why does anyone want to fall in love when the end result can be so painful?

We voluntarily turn off our self preservation switch and ask another human being riddled with flaws to accept us as we are and love us blindly. Giving selflessly and willingly, we don’t see their flaws and they don’t see ours. We enjoy our delusions and even bask in them. Are we logical at all, or are we totally governed by our hearts? No drug can give us that same sense of euphoria. No amount of medicine can cure it and no quantity of alcohol can numb it, when it becomes more then we can bear, yet we still long for love even if it leaves us.

Love is beyond any logical explanation. It takes over rational and lucid thought. It can develop slowly from; acquaintances, friends, raw appeal, lust, desire or attraction, and cultivate into trust, loyalty, hope, and even love. One just falls in love without rational thought or logic. Even the term “fall in love” has a negative connotation. Who would want to fall? Love at its best is, perplexing, chaotic and complicated. It would be like walking a person to the edge of a cliff and telling them to jump with no parachute or safety net. No sane person under normal circumstances would jump without a guarantee of safety, yet every day people “fall” in love and take that fateful leap without even realizing it.

When we are in love our perception of humanity looks different. We look at the world differently than those who are not in love. Everything looks good and we believe the world holds infinite possibilities. Love can give great satisfaction and enjoyment, even though some days it may feel like it is fading or gone.

In my eleven years I have run the gamete of emotions that are tied to love. There have been days where I feel like nothing can compare to how great I’m feeling in that exact moment because I am completely secure in my trust and love. It empowers me not only emotionally but like I can accomplish anything I set my mind to.

Other days I wonder if the grass is greener, or question myself and him. I question decisions made and paths not chosen. The emotions tied to love are so overwhelming that they can engulf a person in their entirety and over whelm, even control their whole personality. It is as if we no longer have power over ourselves.

Slowly realizing you can't even think straight, ready to do anything and everything. Love is our own self inflicted kryptonite. Despite this shocking analogy, I would still say, “If to love is to be insane, please, take all my sanity away.” It is with pride that I will shout to the world, “Call me insane because I am in love!”

January often is a month of reflection. I don’t know if it is the “season” or the conclusion that I don't want to wait until I get to the end of my life to start worrying about the things I never got to do. I have put together a list of things I have done and things I plan to accomplish this year or some time in the near future! I may have to keep adding to it as I think of them but it's a start.

Things I have done!

Been lost, sometimes the best way to find something new or discover something you didn't even know you were looking for.Skipped schoolKnow how to weld, rebuild small engines, and I was in FFABeen in a few playsTraveled by motorcycle, car, train, and plane numerous times. (I love to fly it is the best way to go.)Visited Washington DC. (The WOW factor is over played!)Been to Cozumel Mexico, Ochos Rios, Jamaica, Grand Cayman IslandI have swam in the both the Pacific and Atlantic OceanCried myself to sleepWrote a letter to Santa Claus... (a childhood innocence sometimes still missed.)Played cops and robbers as a child and an adult Sang Karaoke very badly but numerous margaritas contributed to that!I have been so broke I have paid for a meal with coins only.Done things I told myself I wouldn't. (Regretted a few the others glad I did.)Made prank phone calls as a childLaughed until I couldn't catch my breathI have caught a snowflake on my tongueDanced in the rain on a warm summer night all by myselfWatched the sunrise with someoneBlown bubbles as a child and an adult. There is something still magical about it even now.Gone ice-skatingBeen snowboarding. It is hell on your knees until you get good!Prefer skiing.... One amazing Jackson Hole ski trip in college with some GO-GO-juice!Driven across the United StatesGone snowmobilingGone scuba diving and swam with sting rays (Very cool!)Laid outside at night and admired the stars while listening to the cricketsI have seen a falling star and made a wishEnjoyed the beauty of Ole Faithful Geyser being from Montana and all = )I have seen the Statue of LibertyWent on a cruiseGone horse back ridingVisited a rain forest where I zip lined through it.I have pet a camel and rode an elephantJumped off a cliff, been white water rafting, and water skiing.Was in the Army. Whorah!(Shot an M16, M60 and rocket launchers, threw grenades, drove hummers, and a bunch of other really cool stuff.

Things I want to do!

Join a kickboxing class... (It is kicking my ass.)Learn belly dancing as an art form and exercise (Start in February.)Take a pottery classLose weight and get back into "before kids" shapeGet published again. (Either in Skirt or another form of media.)Go back to rock climbing and repellingTake a helicopter rideBuy a French Maid outfit. (Perhaps become a better house keeper.....Nah)Do several home improvement projects to make my house look more like a home.Redo my tattoo (It is a little faded.)Re-pierce my second ear holeGo sky divingI have never been kissed under the mistletoeRide in a hot air balloonGo deep sea fishingRide on a San Fran trolley

Places I want to visit!

Go to Disney World/LandMyrtle Beach... (home of the SHAG a classic movie and a dance I want to learn)Africa (To see the giraffes.)Australia, Fiji, Hawaii, England, the BahamasBaja Mexico (A friend use to vacation here every summer and I was always wanted to go.)China (To see the Great Wall.)Seattle (See the Space Needle and a dear friend.)Bar Harbor, Maine (I am writing a novel and it takes place in Bar Harbor.)

In these moments of exquisite tormentI reach out and only find emptinessI thought you were extraordinaryBut your feelings are hollow and ambiguousA crumbling monument to the past A life of phantom limitations I see waxed smiles on waning facesA beautiful façade for the emotionally barrenUnsurpassed happiness does not inoculate you to melancholy My defenses are low, but I will not waver, nor bend or break Sanity hanging on by a thread, You are not responsible for the racket in my headWanting you was so myopicHow could I not see I was merely playing pretend

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Copyright 2008, Calliope Jones All rights reserved. No part of this blog, book, poetry, or musings may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means; electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other wise, without written permission from the author, under the pen name of Calliope Jones.